The Marauder's Meet
by silly-illy
Summary: The third chapter of 'The Marauder's Meet': the sorting has finally begun!
1. The Letter

The Letter:  
  
In the sleepy town of Godric's Hollow, tucked carefully away from the curious view of Muggles, lived the Potters. Easily the richest and most well liked family in all of Britain's magical community, the Potters were exceptionally well known.  
  
Mr. Potter, a tall and striking man of forty, ran the British Branch of Gringotts Bank, while his wife, never having worked a day in her life, remained constantly busy between social calls and her son, to whom one never turned a blind eye if they were wise. James, who even at eleven could be called handsome with his large and messy quantities of black hair and defined features, had something of a talent for attracting trouble wherever he could.  
  
Often spoiled, as he had more relations than he could count, James had grown into a somewhat strong-willed, mischievous boy, who was quite used to getting his way.  
  
The six years past had been filled with many tutors, each of whom had the painful duty of trying to give James some kind of basic non-magic education, whom had numbered about twenty in the whole.  
  
The problem was not that James was not intelligent, on the contrary, he was quite remarkably brilliant, it was perhaps the fact that the youngest Potter found it somewhat hard to pay attention, letting his imagination slide after he had quickly grasped the concept, which the tutors each would immediately punish him for, something James was not altogether fond of. The result was that a series of rather nasty, and somewhat unintentional hexes would befall each teacher, who would resign immediately.  
  
To the relief of all involved, having finished basic education, James was ready for Hogwarts - something he had been waiting for all his life. Having woken up late, James was just enjoying a late breakfast in the dining room alone when his owl swooped in, dropping an envelope next to his plate. James, though possessing a very nice, not to mention expensive owl, never got mail. The problem was that having been tutored, he hadn't really the time to make any new friends, and his Mother never really had the time to arrange play dates. Most of her friends were childless, and any children he did play with tended to be very much like their fathers: cold, impersonal and very law-abiding. James knew that the Blacks, with whom his Father did regular business, had a son his age, but his Father, who absolutely hated the Blacks was convinced that no such boy raised in that house would be welcome to speak with his child.  
  
Still frowning, he turned the envelope over, which was quite clearly addressed to him; James saw something that changed his mood entirely. The Hogwarts Crest, stamped in wax sealing the envelope stared back at him. Without a moment to lose, he viciously ripped the envelope apart and forcefully pulled out the letter.  
  
HEADMASTER: ALBUS DUMBLEDORE (ORDER OF MERLIN, FIRST CLASS, GRAND SORC.)  
  
Dear Mr. Potter  
  
It is my duty to inform you that you have been selected to attend Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Below is your necessary books and equipment. Term begins 1 September, no owls after 31 August, as they will be disregarded.  
  
Yours Sincerely,  
  
Arnold Regnar,  
  
Deputy Headmaster  
  
Heart pounding, James read over the letter and supplies what had to be twelve more times before setting it down and immediately running around the house to find parchment. In his bedroom, a small stack he had been using to track Quidditch scores on contained a few unused rolls.  
  
Dear Dad -  
  
got my letter. I'm in! When can we go to London?  
  
-James  
  
P.S. -- I thought you said Dippet was Headmaster?  
  
His Father did not respond, and after a couple of hours the owl returned, carrying a note from his Mother. He had been very eager to get a response, but seeing his Mother's curvy handwriting across the envelope instead of his Father's loopy scrawl, he opened it with slightly less anticipation.  
  
Dear James -  
  
Your father has written to tell me - he has business to take care of the whole week, but I shall take you instead, tomorrow.  
  
- Virginia Potter  
  
James stared down at his Mother's reply and sighed, tossing it aside and sitting on his bed. It wasn't that he minded his Mother coming; it was more the fact that his Father, who never had any free time at all, had spent weeks promising to take him. Every time the subject was raised, he'd say it again, very casually, and then say again how pleased he was. The rest of the day, he let himself fall into a state of slight depression, staying mainly in his room making things fly around the room, often crashing when he wasn't careful.  
  
He slept in the next morning, having to have his Mother shake him awake with certain forcefulness. "Wake up! Get dressed, it's always busy... especially now. I imagine everyone's getting their things today!"  
  
When he finally came downstairs, readjusting his glasses, James' mother was standing in front of the fireplace, a vase held in her hands.  
  
Pulling out a large handful of Floo Powder, he stepped into the grate and, closing his eyes, said "DIAGON ALLEY!" and threw the dust down at his feet.  
  
There was a flash of green flame, and he was suddenly whirling around, smacking into brick and watching gates fly past. Finally, everything stopped, and he jumped out, wiping dust and dirt off his robes.  
  
His Mother had been right. The whole place was more crowded than he had ever seen it. It was hard even to see where shops began and ended.  
  
Behind him, he heard his Mother make a slightly smoother entrance, and had no need to wipe anything off her clothes. She emerged, smiling.  
  
They pushed themselves through the crowds until she brought the both of them in front of the Cauldron Shop. "You did remember your supply list, didn't you?" she demanded. She had spent all of yesterday, and a good portion of this morning reminding him and it was with a slightly disgruntled air that he removed it from his pocket, showing her. "Well, I was just making sure," she said, looking at her son with exasperation. "Look, I'll stop off to Gringotts to get your gold, but you start getting your things. I'll be back in a moment, popkin." He tried to duck, but she caught him, leaving a rather large smudge of red lipstick across his cheek.  
  
Still scrubbing furiously at it, he entered the shop. The whole place was very brightly lit and cheery. Every inch of the place was piled with cauldrons. Shelves contained smaller ones, but there were a few that James could have fit his whole body into, not to mention most of his worldly possessions. Gold, silver, steel, pewter, and one section, which appeared to be the only empty part of the store had a small sign saying "invisible", something that James had overlooked before he stubbed his toe, trying to examine a tiny gold one encrusted with jewels on the shelf above.  
  
Frowning at the sign, he walked on. "School Standard" cauldrons were a little ways away. All pewter, they were clearly the least interesting in the shop, but he had little choice in the matter. A large circle of chattering students were crowded around them, and James squeezed in and grabbed his own.  
  
The shopkeeper was clearly busy. Walls of students were packed around his cash register, eagerly purchasing their own cauldrons.  
  
James slowly made his way to the back of the room, and sat down on a small stepladder that had been left there. His Mother, he knew, would be a while, and as he couldn't exactly go looking for her with an unpaid cauldron in his hands, he waited.  
  
A handsome dark-haired boy, a little apart from everyone else caught his attention immediately. He kept throwing shifty looks at the manager while he very slowly and cautiously made his way over the invisible cauldrons section. Easily avoiding where the cauldrons supposedly were, the boys hands fell on the small gold cauldron James had been looking at earlier. From all the way across the room, sitting by the door, James watched his progress carefully. Casting a few more guilty looks over his shoulder, he gingerly placed the cauldron in his robes' pockets and slowly made his way to the door.  
  
"You didn't pay for that," James said casually, looking up at the boy as he approached.  
  
He looked up at James, somewhat startled and then worked to regain a kind of composure. "So? What's it to you?"  
  
"Nothing, it's just - well, I imagine that's worth a lot."  
  
"Yeah, I suppose it is," he said, keeping his voice cool, but his eyes were glazed with fear. His hand had retreated into his robes, and James could tell he was gripping onto the cauldron, as though afraid it would start giving off some kind of alarm. "What are you going to do, snitch on me?"  
  
There was something about the boy he couldn't help but like, even as he was scowling unpleasantly. James never snitched on anyone. It wasn't that he was desperate for friends, but he broke the rules so often he didn't really think it his place to reprimand others.  
  
Instead, he smiled, an expression that faded fast as he looked in back of the boy. "No. But I'd be more careful -- you've been spotted."  
  
They both turned to see the manager marching over, looking livid.  
  
"Give it here!" he yelled, so that everyone in the store could here. "Give it here, you nasty little thief."  
  
James had always had something of a talent for flying charms. He had no real idea why, but other than Transfiguration; it was what came most easily to him. It occurred to him that it would be quite a bit more fun to help the boy than to rat on him, especially since the shop owner looked as though he were nearing a hearth failure.  
  
Quickly and quietly, while the manager was too distracted yelling at the boy, James managed to manoeuvre the cauldron out of his pocket (the boy had obviously let go, due to the shock of being face-to-face with a bright purple man spraying spit everywhere), around the manager, below his eyesight and back across the room, to its original position, jewels glittering with a soft sort of innocence. Although trying to pay attention, James was sure that the boy had seen everything, because he was clearly not paying any attention to the manager. After yet another spit shower, however, his thoughts were pulled immediately back, and seemed to be turning a soft sort of scarlet himself.  
  
"I swear, I don't have it!" he yelled.  
  
"Liar! I saw you, you were right there - " he turned, pointing at the shelf, and as he did so, he looked as if he had been struck dumb. It was just where it had been before, appearing as if it hadn't been touched.  
  
"I don't know how..." he began. "Fine! Fine!" he said, aware of a few people now giggling slightly. He lowered his voice so that only James, the boy and the manager could her. "I don't know how you did it, boy. but if I ever see you in here again." too enraged to finish his own sentence he stomped back to his cash register, throwing vicious looks in the boy's direction as he did.  
  
"Hi," said James, as the boy's gaze returned to him, looking somewhat amazed. "I'm James."  
  
A slow smile crept over his acquaintance's features. "Sirius -- Sirius Black." "Which makes you James Potter, right?"  
  
James nodded. He didn't ask how Sirius knew his name.  
  
"My Dad said Mr. Potter had a son - I'm not to "fraternize with you, though," he said, his grin widening. But Sirius looked far from worried. "Dad doesn't really like your Father, says you're Muggle-lovers." Then, off James' slightly offended look, he added, "My Dad's an idiot, well, all the Blacks are. Y'know, my uncle was the one who tried to pass that Muggle- hunting bill," he informed him. The subject of his family appeared to be one Sirius spoke often of, and never very well.  
  
Saving James from the opportunity to reply to a subject he wasn't sure he really liked all that much, Mrs. Potter walked through the shop door.  
  
"Here you are, darling - that ought to get you through shopping, and I've added some for school, just in case, you know..." she looked up and spotted Sirius. "Hello," she said curtly. James couldn't tell whether or not she knew who he was, but at any rate, she didn't seem to think very highly of his appearance. "Well, shall we be off?" she asked.  
  
James tried to keep his reluctance from showing on his face, but Sirius caught it anyhow. James had suddenly pictured his Mother marching him into Madam Malkins and making him try on all the hideous robes she usually insisted he buy, many of which were shades of purple and blue.  
  
"Excuse me, ma'am, but would it be all right if he came with me? You see, I'm really quite lost, and I was hoping James here could show me around, I'm not often in London, my parents aren't fond of the city."  
  
"Well..." she said, her brow furrowed. She knew her son had very little opportunity to make friends, and it was this, perhaps, which made her agree. "Fine. But you're to meet me at the grate at exactly four."  
  
After promising his Mother he would, James and Sirius strode back onto the street. The crowd was thinning slightly, and just in front of him, James could make out the words Madam Malkins Robes for All Occasions. Pointing it out to Sirius, they both grudgingly made their way over, trying not to smack anyone with their cauldrons (and failing). Unlike the cauldron shop Madam Malkins was quite airy and spacious. Several cheery sales witches were rotating around the room inquiring after the customers with slightly plastered grins.  
  
"Oh hullo," said one, who had snuck up on them unaware. "New students? Oh, well you'll need your robes fitted, won't you? Just behind that curtain, dear -- I'll tell Madam Malkin. She'll be in a moment."  
  
She glided off, leaving them to cast slightly amused looks at each other as they made their way past the green velvet curtain she had pointed out.  
  
The room was entirely purple, and it gave the impression that you had strolled into a giant grape. Two purple pedestals were stuck in the centre, and surrounding them was walls and walls of sewing supplies. Tape measurers, scissors (which, they found out, nipped at your fingers if you got too close), boxes and boxes of different shaped needles, one as big as Sirius's forearm, and rolls and rolls of fabric and thread of every colour and description (but with quite a bit of purple).  
  
It was several minutes before Madam Malkin joined them, but when she finally burst through the curtain she had a smile no less clown-like than all of her helpers. A squat, greying curly-haired witch hidden under a rather extravagant indigo robe with scarves and shawls surrounding. It was a wonder in this heat how she could even stand it, but she didn't seem to notice or care she was dressed for January in July.  
  
"Up in the centre, dears, up in the centre."  
  
They both stood on individual pedestals. Immediately lines of tape measure flew at them, and began curling themselves around, taking measurements. It had all been rather quick. Once the measurements had been taken, the tape returned to Malkin, where she made interested noises for a few minutes before fabric began to shoot itself off the shelves and be cut by the many snapping scissors. Needles much the same threaded themselves and sewed, and all of their robes were done quite quickly. Handing them each a pile, she indicated where the cash register was at the back of the room, and patted both on the back somewhat forcefully.  
  
"What next?" Sirius asked, after paying for his robes, and shoving them in his cauldron.  
  
"Lunch," said James, listening to the low growls of his stomach as they both mounted the cobblestone street again, looking with certain distinction at the ice cream parlour across the way.  
  
"Great idea."  
  
They sat under a brightly coloured umbrella, finishing off giant banana splits and watching the other customers shoving their way up the streets, children and purchases in tow.  
  
James couldn't quite explain it, but for the first time in his life, he felt as if he wasn't under the thumb of his Mother and Father, forcing him to think about his future when he hadn't even started school yet. He didn't tell Sirius this, but there was something about this boy that made him feel entirely at ease.  
  
It didn't take long for the subject to turn to Quidditch teams, something James very much enjoyed. They spent ten minutes arguing loudly (and drawing the attention of many of their neighbouring eaters) and cheerfully about England's chances against Brazil, and whether or not Ireland had a prayer this weekend against Australia.  
  
"Look, mate, the Wimbourn Wasps are good, but only because of Bagman," Sirius was explaining. "I mean, he's amazing, but the whole team's pretty much resting on him, you seen their seeker? Should've retired ages ago."  
  
"What about Hall? He's not bad..."  
  
"Hall? Hall couldn't block the rings if his life depended on it -- if Bagman hadn't shot that Bludger straight at Ivanoskovich's head on Thursday, it would've been all over."  
  
James took another bite of his sundae, looking around. His attention was caught by what was clearly a Muggle family making their way carefully up the street, dressed in some of the strangest clothes James had ever seen. The Father was wearing plaid trousers and a large tweed vest, while the mother was wearing what looked like a robe, only it flared out at the bottoms, and had strange little straps that fell all over her shoulders. Their daughter, a pretty girl with dark red hair that fell down to her waist, looked sensible enough. It was clear they had just paid for robes, as she was now head-to-toe in black fabric with a Hogwarts crest stamped on the front. And just behind her, scowling miserably and looking at everything as though it was about to jump out and attack her was a very thin, blonde pig-tailed girl with a neck that seemed to reach up forever.  
  
The redhead was eyeing everything was great excitement, every now and then travelling further up the street and squealing, dragging her parents to look at something.  
  
"I dunno," said Sirius, watching James' line of vision. "My parents don't really think their type should be allowed."  
  
"What do you mean?" asked James, turning his attention back to the brooding, dark-haired boy in front of him, whose lips were dotted with melted ice cream and sprinkles.  
  
"Well... I'm not really sure. But they seem to think that everything would just be a lot simpler if it was just wizarding families."  
  
"But it's not really fair, is it?" James asked, looking at him, his face slightly hardened. He had clearly been brought up on the opposite side of things. "I mean, they're just as magic as we are, probably - and if they don't get the proper training - I mean, they could hurt others - it just doesn't seem fair."  
  
"Didn't say I thought like that -- I said my father did. Besides, if all Muggle-born's are as pretty as her, I have no problem," he added, glancing as the girl disappeared into the wand shop. Shortly after Florean Fortescue cleared their plates, they filled the next few hours running up and down the street, stopping to get their supplies in various shops as an afterthought. Weighed down with bags they returned to the grate, each with far less money than they had before. James' mother was waiting, tapping the pavement impatiently with her shoe.  
  
"Had a good time, James?" she asked, barely giving Sirius a second look.  
  
"Yeah, Mum."  
  
"Okay, let's get going," she said briskly, reaching for the pot of Floo powder next to the grate.  
  
James turned, and waved at Sirius. "Send me an owl -- or, I guess I'll see you in September!" he called.  
  
Sirius waved back, still grinning broadly, pulling a strand of dark hair out of his eyes.  
  
"See you!"  
  
The next month was agony. James thought September the first would never arrive, and he would be stuck in perpetual August for the rest of his life. Luckily, to relieve the boredom, Sirius and he wrote almost daily, mostly to argue over Quidditch, but quite a few other subjects they managed to squeeze in at the bottom  
  
James -  
  
Dad keeps going on about how he wants me to be in Slytherin -- can you believe it? I wouldn't be caught dead in that house -- I'd run away or something. Did you hear about the Wasps? UNBELIEVABLE!!! Why'd Bagman have to go and get a broken arm? He's useless!! Talk about useless -- you seen his replacement? Got to go, mate -- Mum's calling -- I think she found the dung bombs I've been hiding. Darn -- I was going to do some serious damage when we got to school. Oh well! Write Back!!!  
  
--Sirius 


	2. September 1st

September 1st  
  
The rest of the summer, though grudgingly slow, ended finally, and that first September morning, when the air was just beginning to chill, James hardly needed his Mother's sharp knock on the door to wake him up. He had already been awake for hours, all of his bags neatly packed, and he was completely dressed (in old Muggle clothing his Mother had bought a while ago for this occasion specifically).  
  
"Thanks, Mum!" he yelled loudly, glaring at the door.  
  
"Just checking, just checking," she called. "We're leaving in half an hour -- make sure you have all your things together."  
  
It took six trips up and down from his room to the front entrance to get all of his things. His Mother had insisted he pack extra clothes, and a couple of dress robes ("Just in case! There could be a party... and they're always nice to have along!") and a whole series of things he was pretty sure he'd never look at until June when he had to pack it all up again.  
  
His Father had signalled for the Knight Bus before they'd left. The ride was pleasant enough; he'd spent most of the ride sitting in a fat armchair watching London fly by, hoping to maybe see Sirius as he approached. A friendly face would help him get rid of his parents, who were determined to see him off. Ahead of him, a sandy-haired boy whose mother was nearly as quiet as he was, had his head stuck in a book the whole time, every now and then stopping because his Mother was making sure he'd remembered another item.  
  
"You didn't forget your owl, did you, darling?"  
  
"No, mum"  
  
"Or your jumper? It'll be cold in the winter -- though I dare say you'll want to come home for the holidays. I remember I used to get so homesick - "  
  
"No, mum".  
  
From where James was sitting, the boy, though clearly his own age looked unusually tired and strained. His face looked almost aged prematurely, despite his youthful features. There was a somehow pained expression in even his smile as he attempted to humour his mother.  
  
Taking the lead from that boy's Mother, Mrs. Potter also began drilling James on his things, a subject that she managed to press for the rest of the journey.  
  
When they stepped off the bus, James feeling as if his head might explode, he quickly volunteered to run and find a trolley. Returning, he made a quick attempt to load all his things on as fast as possible.  
  
"Well, that's great, Mum, Dad, thanks! I'll just be --"  
  
"Hold on," said his Mother, looking slightly hurt, "don't you want us to see you off?"  
  
"I promised to meet Sirius at the Platform, and, well... I really have no time..."  
  
"You have twenty minutes," said his Father sharply. "And you also haven't a clue how to get ON the Platform."  
  
James' face fell. He loved his parents, but he was rather hoping he wouldn't have to hug them in front of Sirius, who had told him that HIS parents would not be coming.  
  
"Yeah... you're right... how silly of me."  
  
They made their way through the barrier and appeared on the other side, with no sign of Sirius anywhere. He made the hugs and kisses as quick as possible before he practically shoved his parents through the barrier yelling "Thanks! See you in June!" after them.  
  
"James!" called a voice loudly. "JAMES! Hey, James -- over here!"  
  
Spinning around, James saw Sirius leaning out of a compartment window, the steam billowing from the train rustling his hair. Waving, his grin grew wider.  
  
Dropping all his things at the Baggage compartment, James made his way up the train till he found Sirius's compartment, and was slightly surprised to find that it wasn't empty. The sandy-haired boy from the Knight Bus, head still buried in his book, barely glanced up as James entered, slamming down in a seat across from Sirius and next to the boy.  
  
"I'm sorry I haven't written in ages," Sirius began. James laughed, it had been two days. "But I've been grounded. Mum found the dungbombs, like I thought and wouldn't let me out of my room for a week. Took my owl, too. Oh well..." he said, still grinning. "She only found one box. I had another stuffed under my mattress." He pulled a small rectangular box from his pocket with the word ZONKO'S FABULOUS FIRST-RATE DUNGBOMBS labelled across the front. Out of the corner of his eye, James saw the sandy-haired boy look slightly concerned, slightly amused.  
  
"This," said Sirius, noticing that James' attention was already turned in that direction, "is Remus."  
  
Looking over the top of his book, Remus blushed, smiling nervously.  
  
"Hello," he said.  
  
James offered his hand, and Remus, though still looking nervous, took it.  
  
"James."  
  
"Hi, James," he said warmly, setting his book aside altogether.  
  
James had been right -- he did look tired. There were small worry lines already creasing his forehead, which would be almost impossible to see if the compartment was more brightly lit, but as it was, dark shadows seemed more prominent under his eyes and he looked as though he might pass out at any minute.  
  
"Are you all right?" James asked in spite of his better judgement.  
  
The boy grinned, and James was sure he was doing a little fast thinking. "I don't really get much sleep." He laughed. "I was up all night -- too excited. I almost couldn't come - "but at these words he fell silent altogether, looking as if he'd said too much.  
  
Sirius shrugged softly in James direction when he caught his eye, so that Remus couldn't see.  
  
"Yeah," said James. "Yeah, me too."  
  
There was a loud whistle, and the train began to move, slowly gaining speed while the London city scene slowly melted into the countryside.  
  
Sirius was avidly debating with Remus, who seemed to have left his nervousness miles away with the station, about Quidditch. James watched the whole thing with great amusement, jumping in now and then, taking neither side.  
  
"IRELAND? IRELAND!" Sirius bellowed, as James fell into another fit of laughter. "Ireland hasn't got a clue. Did you watch the last match?"  
  
"That's only one bad match -- they had three really great ones before that -- did you see the game against Spain?"  
  
Lost for words (perhaps because he realized Remus was right), Sirius contented himself to glare out the window muttering about "Irish frauds" causing James to lead Remus into a fit of laughter that lasted until the food trolley rolled up the isle, straightening up, they realised their hunger. It was nearly three, and James hadn't bothered getting lunch before coming to the station -- his Mother had tried to persuade him to eat something, but he had refused.  
  
Everyone, extracting large amounts of silver, ordered possible more than they could carry, and the seats were soon buried in hundreds of sweets, each begging to be opened. There was a small stack of Chocolate Frog Cards that were at one end of the compartment, which they had all promised to split evenly once they arrived at Hogwarts, and another seat was completely devoted to empty rappers. Throwing his completed Chocolate Frog box on top of the mountain of garbage, mouth lined with chocolate, James looked distinctly as though he were about to barf, and was incredibly pleased about it.  
  
"I have never," said Remus slowly, clutching his stomach and leaning against the window, "eaten that much chocolate in my life. I'm gonna be sick," he groaned, looking around as if for an appropriate place to do this.  
  
"Just stay away from the cards," Sirius warned, in what would have sounded like a humorous voice, had he not been filled with chocolate. When they were sure they could open their mouths without vomiting, they began to talk about Hogwarts itself. Rumours, classes, what houses they'd like to be in, and so forth.  
  
"Well," said Remus, "my older sister's in Ravenclaw -- so was my Dad. I expect they'd want me to be too."  
  
"Yeah, mate," said James, shaking his head. "But we asked what house you wanted to be in -- not your dad."  
  
"Gryffindor," he answered without hesitation. "Just don't tell my Dad. He thinks anyone who's not in Ravenclaw must be as dumb as a post."  
  
"Well, my whole family's been in Gryffindor, but I'd probably want to be in it anyway. Sounds the best," James agreed.  
  
"I just want to be in Gryffindor to spite my Dad," Sirius said. Remus looked slightly taken aback, and Sirius added reassuringly, "Don't worry -- my mum, too."  
  
James snorted, and Remus let another smile escape him.  
  
"Yeah, not all my family, but most have been in Slytherin. I hate it -- they act like anyone who's Muggle-born is scum." He smiled off James' look. "Yes, I agree with you." Rolling his eyes, he turned back to Remus. "You pure-blood?"  
  
"Sort of... I think we have a couple of Muggles in the family, but only recently -- and they were in the family after I was born -- so I don't know if that counts."  
  
"I'm pure," said James and Sirius at the same time.  
  
"Speaking of Muggles - Hey James, it's that girl," Sirius said, looking across for the first time to the compartment across from them.  
  
"What girl?" James asked, turning so he could see where Sirius was looking. Red hair shining in the sunlight, the Muggle girl they had seen in Diagon Alley was chatting excitedly with a group of girls. "Oh, her," James said with very little interest. "Cool."  
  
It wasn't that James thought her unattractive; it was more the fact that at eleven, his mind was less occupied with girls than with sports. He acknowledged her to be uncommonly pretty, but didn't see the fuss Sirius seemed to be making. She flicked back another long section of her dark red hair, her mouth still moving a hundred miles an hour. Not until her vibrant green eyes were directed (with the help of her friends) to their compartment, did he retract his gaze.  
  
Remus laughed. "I think she saw you."  
  
Frowning, the girl had turned back to her friends, talking with slightly less spirit than she had done before, casting curious looks back in their direction for a quarter of an hour to make sure they weren't still looking.  
  
By the time the train arrived at the Hogsmeade Station, all three boys loaded what was left of their candy into their pockets, feeling that they were no longer quite as full, and completely capable of devouring the feast waiting in the castle.  
  
They came off the train, a small way back of the redhead so she didn't think they were following her.  
  
"FIRS' YEARS!" called a booming voice. The voice, however, was nothing compared to the man beckoning them forward. He had to be at least ten feet tall, and a chest like a giant barrel stuck out in front of him, wild mangled hair surrounding a very ruddy face. Yet one couldn't help feeling trusting of this man, whoever he was, his giant shovel-like hands beckoning people forward. "THIS WAY! THA'S THE TICKET! EVERYONE HERE? FOLLOW ME!" All of the first years had to run to match his strides. He led them down a small hill to a lake where a little more than a dozen small rowboats were waiting, water slapping at the shore. A lantern was attached to each boat, swinging in the light breeze and casting a pale glow over the inky- blackness of the lake, turning it navy before swinging back onto the boat once more.  
  
"ALL RIGH'!" came the man's booming voice again. "NO MORE'N THREE TER A BOAT!"  
  
James, Sirius and Remus immediately piled into one boat, lined up right at the shore. In front of them, the redhead and her friends had taken another, and the boats progressively filled until the large man and one very small boy were still on the shore. James looked around at the boats. There was space for one more in one boat, but James privately felt he understood why this boy wasn't immediately running for it. Two very nasty-looking boys, talking in harsh whispers to one-another, one with long greasy black hair and another who looked, to James, as if his eyebrows and hair had consumed all of his face.  
  
The giant man kept gesturing to the boy to take their boat, and a few people were starting to laugh. With an equally strong purpose, the boy shook his head.  
  
"WELL, WE CAN'T GET GOIN UNLESS EVERYONE HAS A BOAT, YER GONNA HAVE TER SHARE WITH SOMEONE'," he said, now exasperated.  
  
Trembling slightly, the boy made his way to the boat that had any room left and timidly squeezed in.  
  
"How's he getting there?" Sirius gestured towards the man.  
  
James shrugged, but Remus pointed behind him.  
  
It was just like their boats, but about two times larger, as if it had simply been expanded to fit. Climbing inside, the man took a large pink umbrella James couldn't quite remember seeing him carrying before and tapped his boat three times. All the little boats started off at once, careening down the lake towards what looked like a long patch of ivy.  
  
"YE'HL GET YER FIRS' LOOK AT THE CA -- "  
  
SPLASH  
  
From directly behind them, they heard the sound of harsh laughter and whimpering cries. The boy who had not wanted to get on at all was now bobbing up and down in the water, and the other two were laughing hysterically. Without much thought (though it was how he always operated) James plunged into the lake before anyone else could act. The giant man must've stopped the boats, because they all stood still in the water. Some of the girls had their hands clapped over their mouths, but the boys seemed to be thoroughly enjoying watching it. The boat the boy had been pushed out of (for clearly there was no other explanation) was the furthest to the left, and dead centre. James weaved in and out of the other boats. The boy was now drifting further and further away, still flailing his arms helplessly. He had to be nearly two yards from where he had started now, but James gave a big push with his hands, and he had his arms around the boy's shoulders, forcing his head out of the water. Instead of taking him back to his boat, James dragged him back towards the giant, who was looking white with fear. He pulled him up over the boat, and then reached out a hand towards James, who shook his head. "I'm all right," he said, with a smile.  
  
He began to swim slowly back towards his boat (Sirius and Remus were clapping and laughing, and a few others had joined in), when he could hear the jeers and cries of the other two boys. Diving underwater, he swam until he found what had to be the bottom of their boat, and, pushing his hands all the way up, tipped them overboard and swam silently back to his boat, climbing over the edge.  
  
Sirius leaned in so that only James and Remus could hear him. "Good one," he said, grinning broadly, his eyes on the boys struggling to regain balance. The large man was obviously feeling the same way because it was in a slightly amused voice that he said "C'MON, NOW! C'MON -- CAN'T GET GOIN IF YER GONNA MESS AROUN'." Several people laughed. White-faced and furious the boys managed to get back into their boat, glaring directly at James who feigned a look of innocence. "I have no idea what you're talking about," said James, with a small smile.  
  
"That wasn't very nice, you know."  
  
All three boys looked ahead. The redhead and her two friends were looking at James, glowering.  
  
"He threw him over! He deserved what he got!"  
  
"I don't see how that justifies it."  
  
"Then you're an idiot," Sirius added helpfully, and in a huff she turned around again.  
  
Shaking his head, Sirius glared in her general direction. "Don't see what her problem is. She was laughing with everyone else when they fell in."  
  
James shrugged. He felt quite indifferent.  
  
By the time the boats docked on the shore leading up to the castle, the cold was starting to get to James. Thinking happily he'd soon be in the castle devouring a very hot dinner, he shrugged it off. The other boy, who was still behind with their leader was wrapped in what looked like a giant bear -skin, shivering as if it were mid-January.  
  
They followed a winding path up to the castle doors, two very high wooden structures, each with a giant silver knocker on the door. Grabbing one, the giant pulled on it and made three loud, cracking booms.  
  
The door was yanked open almost immediately by a tall, near-skeletal, balding wizard in long black robes.  
  
"Thank you, Hagrid," he said, not meeting Hagrid's eyes. "I'll take them from here. You may go."  
  
Without saying another word, the man turned his back on Hagrid and began leading the children into a giant foyer.  
  
"Mr. Hagrid! Mr. Hagrid! I still have your coat!"  
  
Turning, Hagrid smiled at the boy James had retrieved from the lake. "Tha's okay, jus' drop it off on yer way ter Herbology sem time this week - It's the cabin just down - well, yeh can see it from the castle. Bye, Pe'er!"  
  
"Come along, come along!" the man shouted at Peter, who was still waving furiously at Hagrid.  
  
The man stopped right as they began approaching two large doors behind which there was a great deal of noise and light. The whole of the entryway was so cavernous James was amazed their echoes didn't travel for miles.  
  
"Stay right here and do not move," the man said crossly. "I have to see to something I'll be back in a moment, and we will begin the Sorting."  
  
At these words, there was a rush of whispers, and James saw with some satisfaction that the Muggle redhead looked petrified.  
  
"What do they mean, "the sorting"? What sort of things do they make us do? Do we need spells? I don't remember any spells - it's been ages since I've looked over my books. I don't even have my wand!" Sirius, James and Remus were slightly calmer. James knew, and could only imagine the other two did as well, what the sorting ceremony entailed. His Father told him that a hat, owned by one of the founders, was placed upon your head, and it decided the House to which you belonged.  
  
Remus, though clearly not unnerved by the idea of the method of sorting, was nevertheless anxious. "I know if I don't get into Ravenclaw, Romulus will think I'm a stupid prat. He always goes on about how Ravenclaws are really the only intelligent wizards, and the others are all duffers. My sister, Silvia, she's the same. Romulus is on the Quidditch team -- just last year he's been accepted. He's not great, but good enough to gloat..." before sliding into a forborne expression, James was able to register that he was sure this was the longest Remus had ever spoken in the time they knew him.  
  
"Mate, my parents want me to be in Slytherin. It doesn't matter, though, does it? If I have to sit there with that thing on my head hours before it puts me in anything but Slytherin, I'll do it. Ravenclaws are supposed to be bores, anyway -- who needs it?"  
  
The blatant bashing of his siblings' prized house seemed to cheer Remus slightly, if it weren't for his overwhelming nerves.  
  
"Hello Sirius," came a smug, satisfied voice from behind.  
  
Before he even turned to see who it was, a horrible sickening expression shaded over Sirius's handsome features. "Bella," he said coldly.  
  
"So, too good for Slytherin? You probably just don't think you could get into a house like it. They wouldn't want you, Slytherin never took babies."  
  
Bella, a rather unpleasantly pretty-looking witch with heavy-lidded eyes, a shining black bun and a smug expression, was looking as though she would like nothing better than to have Sirius take a swing at her.  
  
Throwing her a glance that clearly stated he would like to call her many things, none of them cheery, Sirius held back and simply gave her one last, very icy look. "Get lost, Bellatrix."  
  
Still smirking, she retreated back to a group of people, all of them equally as sinister-looking as Bellatrix herself.  
  
"How do you know her?" James asked, finally pulling his eyes away from their group.  
  
Sirius's expression softened very little, still staring hard at her. "She's my cousin," he said flatly, and it was clear that this answer was going to be the only sufficient piece of information that crossed his lips presently.  
  
The skeletal man reappeared, looking no more cheerful than he had done before.  
  
"Follow me, please."  
  
He yanked open the large double doors which they had been standing in front of for a quarter of an hour. 


	3. The Sorting

The Sorting  
  
A large, warm-looking room with four long tables and one at the top filled with adults all capped with hovering candles were chatting cheerfully amongst themselves and their neighbours. All the talking stopped once they entered as every eye turned on them. There was a feeling of excitement in the air, and everyone could feel it. Now and then, James could hear someone whispering "Were we that tiny when we were first years?" or things like "Good lord, I hope he's not in our house -- definite Slytherin." There was a stool perched right in front of the table filled with adults, who could only be teachers. It was the dirtiest Wizard's hat James had ever seen, although it was obvious his Mother had once attended Hogwarts, he couldn't imagine her actually letting it touch her head. She might faint at the thought.  
  
They all continued walking up the carpeted stone floor. "Oh that's the most beautiful thing!" came a voice from behind. The red head that had told him off for tipping the boat was now staring up at the ceiling, reflecting the starry night's sky.  
  
"Yes!" whispered her friend audibly, "it's been charmed, you see? It's actually reflecting the real sky."  
  
"How marvellous!"  
  
Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Bellatrix and her friends finding the dialogue most amusing. "Muggles," said one in their group, shaking his head. A long curtain of greasy black hair went with it.  
  
They all finally stopped, and the tall Wizard who had shown them in approached the stool.  
  
He looked at the hat expectantly. A wide rip opened near the brim, and it began to sing.  
  
Over many years ago, before you all were born,  
  
four great founders came together, Hogwarts did they form.  
  
Though, there were many gripes and groans of how it should be done,  
  
It was Gryffindor who thought of it, for he was such good fun.  
  
He took me off his head, flourishing the deed,  
  
and gave me brains he grew as if from planting seed.  
  
A different trait to each founder really was endeared,  
  
And a rift of indecision, was what each truly feared.  
  
Slytherin craved those of will and of hearty greed,  
  
While to Hufflepuff the spot went to those who did good deeds,  
  
Gryffindor always found bravery the best,  
  
And Ravenclaw thought brains truly passed her test.  
  
So put me on and I shall tell you where you ought to be,  
  
And open mind and willingness truly is the key.  
  
From the tables of students came a great cheer as the hat finished its song, which had clearly become a novelty to the older ones.  
  
James knew perfectly well where he wanted to be. Every Potter had been in Gryffindor, and he made sure no opposing thought crossed his mind. He could tell Sirius was thinking along the same lines, as he gave a very cold glare in the direction of what James assumed Sirius knew were the Slytherins. Remus was keeping his eyes very sadly on what had to be the Ravenclaw table as two other students, both of which looked very much like Remus were looking at him intently, as though trying to size up their brother.  
  
"When I call your name, you will sit on the stool and place the hat on your head, and when you have been sorted, proceed immediately to your house table. Starting at the right are: Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, Gryffindor and Slytherin."  
  
The Wizard looked around impressively, surveying them all with great importance before continuing.  
  
"Ackerly, Carolin." A stout witch went up to the podium, looking halfway between nervous and curious and was declared a Hufflepuff several seconds later.  
  
"Black, Bellatrix."  
  
Sirius's cousin walked with a slow sort of confidence up to the podium, casting everyone a superior look before letting the hat glide imperiously onto her head. "SLYTHERIN" it screamed immediately, as if desperate to have her out of its centre. She glided to the Slytherin table, all of which were clapping hard.  
  
"Black, Sirius."  
  
Giving James thumbs up and a grin, he strode to the stool, swung himself over it and plunged the hat on his head. Crossing his fingers inside his robes, shutting his eyes with anticipation, the hat called out "GRYFFINDOR!" with almost as much swiftness as Bellatrix's ruling.  
  
Positively beaming, he half-ran to where students were cheering very loudly.  
  
"Bones, Amelia."  
  
A blonde haired witch walked to the podium, looking very nervous. She glanced towards the Hufflepuff table where James could see three or four other blondes, who he could only assume she was related to. After nearly half a minute, she was declared a Hufflepuff. There was where many more witches and wizards when. "Evans, Lily." The dark redhead from the boat who had told him off looked nothing short of petrified. She now was shaking with fright, and when the hat finally decided on Gryffindor, she nearly flew to the tableto join her fellow Gryffindors. "Gudgeon, Davey", who looked like he was lost became a Hufflepuff.  
  
"Lupin, Remus." Casting one last look towards his siblings, Remus didn't even look up to see James trying to cheer him up. He walked, looking as if he were being forced down the plank of a pirate ship, towards the hat and threw it over his head, awaiting the verdict. He took the longest by far. James had checked his watch. Remus sat there, looking as if he desperately wanted to scream for five minutes. James watched him whisper furiously under the hat, and small whispers coming from the hat itself. "GRYFFINDOR!" shouted the hat finally. Whatever his worries about his family, Remus emerged from the hat looking happy nonetheless. He grinned broadly at James as he passed, and managed to squeeze into a seat next to Sirius, who was now punching him playfully on the shoulder. "Malden, Dora." became a Ravenclaw, along with "Paisley, Geoffrey".  
  
"Pettigrew, Peter." The boy James rescued from the lake, still rapped in the ridiculously overlarge coat of the giant's walked up to the stool and put the hat on. After a few seconds, and to the great surprise of his house, he was declared a Gryffindor. Many of the Gryffindors, though applauding politely, didn't seem to think much of Peter.  
  
"Potter, James."  
  
James felt a sudden surge of insecurity that seemed to have cropped up instantly. He had been so sure that he would be in Gryffindor, but for the first time a horrible thought crossed his mind: what if he wasn't? Both of his new friends were now in Gryffindor, and he was sure that it would be next to impossible trying to maintain a friendship from Ravenclaw or Hufflepuff or, he thought with considerable distaste, Slytherin. He walked, his legs having turned to lead to the podium. One of the boys who had thrown Peter into the lake was now looking at him savagely. James glared at him; aware that now, in front of the teachers was not the best time to pick a fight. The boy met his glare, and James, acting as if he hadn't seen him, sat down and jerked the hat on his head.  
  
"Aah," it said. "Aah, another Potter. Yes... brave as all the others, but an exceptionally sharp mind. You would make a very good Ravenclaw, except there is something of a mischievous disposition about you. Better be.. GRYFFINDOR!" It shouted. Remus and Sirius had jumped to their feet, applauding wildly, Sirius doing it with a somewhat theatrical air that made James laugh. He managed to sidle in next to Remus and Sirius, with Peter across from him, and accepted the hearty pats on the back before they all turned to watch the completion of the sorting.  
  
All whispering ended as the ancient wizard sat at the centre of the staff table in long crimson and gold robes stood, surveying the crowd through half-moon glasses. He had greying hair with a beard to match, with his hair reaching half way down his back and his beard, half way down his front.  
  
"Welcome," he said beaming, "Welcome to a new year at Hogwarts. Before we begin, I have some start of term notices that cannot wait until after dinner. First, that Armando Dippet, headmaster for these long thirty-three years has retired, and I'm sure that we all wish him the best. Secondly, that before he left, though I must admit not in entirely sound mind and body, as he clearly proved, he has chosen me to take over, and I - " Whatever Dumbledore was about to say, the great uproar of approval from every single table drowned his words. It lasted for nearly a minute, and James watched his plate hop from the commotion. Many people were stamping the floor and whistling while others clapped. It wasn't hard to tell that Dumbledore had been well liked in whatever he taught. He waved his hand as a signal for silence as he swiftly continued.  
  
"Taking over my Transfiguration post will be Professor McGonagall, and taking over her position as Charms teacher will be our newest member of staff, Professor Flitwick." It took a moment to locate the new Professor, although Dumbledore had indicated where he sat. He was tiny, and needed to stand on his chair in order to give a great sweeping wave to the students. The applause, though far from scattered, paled in comparison to Dumbledore's greeting. "And now, before you all die of imminent starvation," his eyes passed over a couple of students who were now staring hopefully at their plates, utensils clutched firmly in their hands, impatient to start. "May the feast, begin."  
  
As Dumbledore spoke the plates, which had been lying empty on the tables, immediately filled with food of every kind. Taking a huge scoop of buttered mashed potatoes, James began shovelling food into his mouth at an alarming rate. They had unfortunately, despite their best efforts, ate most of their sweets in the boats on their journey up to the castle Sirius laughed at him. "Slow down or you're going to choke, mate." He then took a huge bite of biscuit and joined James' gorge.  
  
As James and Sirius calmed down and began to eat at a satisfied pace, two students from the Ravenclaw table joined the group.  
  
"So... do you want us to break the bad news to Mum and Dad?" Remus's brother said.  
  
"Geez, Remus -- we thought didn't think you were brilliant, but Gryffindor? Might as well be in Hufflepuff," his sister said. A few people at the Gryffindor table overheard them and were now shooting the two Ravenclaws icy looks.  
  
Remus was staring down at his plate, looking as if he would desperately like to run full out for the back doors.  
  
"I... I don't think it's so bad," he muttered to his carrots.  
  
"Why don't the two of you get lost?" Sirius asked angrily, glaring at both of them. "If Remus is in Gryffindor, it's only because it's the best house there is!" Several Gryffindors applauded him.  
  
Remus was now staring wide-eyed at Sirius, as his siblings left for their own table. "Th-Thanks," he muttered. James got the feeling that Remus wasn't used to people sticking up for him.  
  
"Don't mention it," Sirius said. "How'd you end up with such gits for family anyway?"  
  
Remus beamed, and then his smile faltered. "I suppose I do have to tell them, though, my parents, that is. They said to send them an owl after my first week telling them how I like everything. If I don't, Silvia and Romulus will."  
  
"Don't worry about it," James said. "They can't disown you for getting into a certain house, can they? They're still family."  
  
"You don't know how my parents are about school. They both got perfect OWLs and NEWTs when they were here, and they think it's all because they were Ravenclaws."  
  
James reached for another steak when a semi-transparent silver head popped out of the platter. Several first-years screamed, James and Remus jumped back and Sirius froze with a spoonful of peas halfway to his mouth, but a couple of older students said, "How's it going, Nick?"  
  
The man, who was clearly a ghost floated through the table completely and hovered above. "Good. Thank you for asking, Mister Patil."  
  
"Paul, pass the carrots!" called a girl on the other side of the boy who had greeted Nick.  
  
"Aah, first years," said Nick happily; spying the smallest faces staring up at him.  
  
"Are you the Gryffindor House Ghost?" Remus asked, looking at him intently.  
  
"Certainly -- Sir Nicholas de Mimsy Porpington the third."  
  
"Nearly-Headless Nick," Paul Patil whispered, and several of the students (clearly from Wizarding families) nodded in understanding.  
  
Nick, looking a bit grumpier than he had a moment ago, flew off to the other end of his table, and James noted that his head seemed to be teetering on his neck.  
  
"Got 'it wiv an axe 'bout a fifty times," said Paul through a mouthful of Yorkshire pudding. "Still, it didn't fall off in the end, so he's Nearly Headless."  
  
"How awful," whispered Lily from further down the table.  
  
"Cool," a few of the boys mused.  
  
The plates wiped themselves clean and they were now staring at mountains of puddings. As James, Sirius and Remus were helping themselves to everything within their reach, James felt a small tap on his back. He turned, and found himself face-to-face with Peter, the boy he had rescued.  
  
"I j-just w-wanted to... to say... thank you. I... well, yes," he finished rather stupidly. Sirius was looking at him with deep distaste.  
  
"You're welcome. I fancied a swim anyway," James said smiling. For the first time in an hour he realized he was still quite damp. Not nearly as wet as he had been before, but the warmth of the castle had momentarily relieved him of any thought of it. Shaking a few strands of wet black hair out of his eyes, he nodded at Peter. "I'm James," he said, sticking out his hand. Peter took it greedily, but left his hand quite limp. James grimaced. It was like shaking a dead fish. Turning the scowl into a smile again, he noticed that Sirius desperately wanted to smack Remus when he said, "Would you like to join us, Peter? There's room right here if we all move over."  
  
Remus ignored Sirius' look and nudged him to move over. Peter pounced on the empty space, and a new plate reappeared where he sat. Sirius watched with disgust as Peter managed to fill every inch of his plate with at least two-dozen different puddings, piling each on top of one another until the plate was filled. Clearly losing his appetite, Sirius pushed his plate away and launched into conversation with Remus and James, shooting nasty looks at Peter, who was still trying to devour his plate full of puddings.  
  
"Well, I don't know about you, Remus, but I'm happy to write to my mum. Tell her right away I didn't get into Slytherin and how glad I am. She'll be furious, I expect." Sirius looked delighted about this. However Remus was clearly not keen on talking about writing to his parents. Casting an anxious look at the Ravenclaw table He hastily began a new topic, "What lesson are you most looking forward to, Peter?"  
  
Peter looked up, while a dribble of chocolate travelled over his chin (Sirius looked like he might vomit). "Oh, I dunno. Defence Against the Dark Arts?" He apparently did not hear Sirius's snort of disbelief, but James did. He was sure he knew what his friend was thinking. This boy probably couldn't repel a biting teaspoon let alone a Dark Wizard.  
  
"My Dad says I'd be really good at Transfiguration, as I used to turn all the House-elves into mice when I was little, so I imagine I might like that."  
  
"Nah," said Sirius. "Defence Against the Dark Arts. I imagine I could give Mum a good blast, not like they could do anything. She definitely counts as a dark artist if I ever saw one. Perhaps charms wouldn't be too bad, maybe I could float her away or something." Half the letters James had received over the summer were about Sirius's mother. "My mum's a right old hag..." and so forth. James knew enough about the Blacks to know that Sirius' descriptions were probably not too far off the mark. They were terribly unpopular in the Magical Community.  
  
The last crumbs dissolved from their plates, leaving them shinny and gold, as if they'd never been used. Taking the lead from everyone else, James directed his attention once more to Dumbledore, who had risen from his seat again.  
  
"And now, that we are all fed and watered, it is time to proceed with the annual announcements. As always, the Forbidden Forest it out of bounds to all students. I would also like to advise those of you who do not desire detentions to stay away from the west of the school, as we have a planted a Whomping Willow on the grounds and is most unpleasant. Our caretaker, Mr Filch would also ike to remind students that practicing magic in the corridors will result in a detention in his company, and also that Dungbombs have been added to the list of contraband items." James saw Dumbledore's eyes fall on Sirius for the briefest of seconds before continuing. "And, of course, in keeping with an excellent tradition, the school song. Everyone choose your favourite tune!"  
  
Dumbledore raised his wand, and ribbon shot out of it, twisting itself into words. He began to sing with the other teachers, and many students, but he noticed that none were quite so enthusiastic as Dumbledore, with his great booming voice, singing in what appeared to be a very low opera. James, struggling with the words, stuck with the same tune as Sirius who was singing it to "God Rest Ye Merry Hippogriffs".  
  
Hogwarts, Hogwarts Hoggy Warty Hogwarts  
  
Teach us something please  
  
Whether we be old and bald or young with scabby knees  
  
Our heads could do with filling, with some interesting stuff  
  
For now they're bare and full of air  
  
Dead flies and bits of fluff  
  
So teach us things worth knowing  
  
Bring back what we've forgot  
  
Just do your best we'll do the rest and learn until our brains all rot...  
  
As Dumbledore, who had been left singing the longest, let out one last, long low note of the song, and the ribbon withdrew into his wand like a whip.  
  
"Excellent, excellent, now, off you trot," said Dumbledore, beaming once more, eyes not completely dry.  
  
James, Remus and Sirius, with Peter closely in tow, trying to hoist his trousers over his bottom from behind his robes as he ran, followed their Prefect, Paul Patil, closely out of the hall and up a flight of stairs. "Mind the trick step," said Paul as they climbed, pointing out one, but Peter, who had been too busy trying to straighten his tie, walked right into it, his feet sinking deeply into the false step.  
  
He let out a yelp, making all the Gryffindor first-years turn, as he began to wave his arms around wildly like a windmill, losing his balance.  
  
"Hold him up! Hold him up!" Paul yelled, trying to push first-years out of his way as he ran. "His whole leg can snap if he falls!"  
  
This, of course, was the wrong thing to say as Peter, hardly looking relieved, began shrieking wildly, still waving his hands, even with James and Remus trying to hold him forward, he then began toppling to the side.  
  
"Sirius! Grab him!"  
  
But it was too late. Sirius made a wild grab, but missed as Peter toppled to the side, making a horrible cracking noise just as Paul reached their step. There were many gasps and quite a few girls screamed, clapping their hands to their mouths in horror.  
  
"Oh," said Paul quietly, watching the fat, salty tears stream down Peter's beat-like face. "Oh." Suddenly, he seemed to have woken up, realized what was happening, and said to the Gryffindors. "Carry on upstairs! Go to the portrait of a fat woman in pink. The password's 'Fortiscor', she'll understand, just go!"  
  
Sirius began to make his way up the stairs with the others, Remus and James still watching Peter who was hunched over, clutching his leg. "I have to go off and find Madame Pomfrey," Paul whispered to Peter. "Just hold on, okay?" Sirius was urging his friends forward, but his efforts were in vain. "Can - can they stay with me?" Peter asked.  
  
Paul looked up at them. "You don't mind, do you?"  
  
Sirius looked pained, but Remus and James shook their heads, James giving Sirius a quick prod on the arm, so he would do the same. "No," said Sirius in a hollow voice, "Not at all."  
  
Paul disappeared around the corner, leaving Sirius, James and Remus to deal with the sobbing Peter.  
  
"My leg!" he wailed. Peter began to grab at his robes, pulling them up, and then reached for the hem of his trousers. He pulled up the trouser leg and James saw something that turned his blood cold. Indeed, when Peter looked down at his leg, he turned white, gave a lurch, turned his head to the side and vomited. Wiping his mouth, he made a funny noise like a "huh", eyes went crossed and slumped onto his side, twisting his body even more.  
  
Just below his kneecap, whiter than the boy himself, stuck out about three inches was bone. Blood trickled out at all sides, running down his leg, like dye on paper. Remus looked away, and Sirius merely looked stricken with shock.  
  
The Slytherins chose that moment to walk by. James watched them, like a many-headed entity, looking from the trail of vomit, to the face of the boy, slumped over, and then to the thing his three friends were looking at: his leg. Many indeed look shocked, except for the three at the very front. The two boys who had thrown Peter into the lake and Bellatrix Black, all looking like they had never seen anything more entertaining in their lives.  
  
The Slytherin prefect, abandoning the group, came forward. "How did this happen? Is someone going for help? How is he?" she asked in a very hushed, horror-stricken voice.  
  
"Uhhh..." Remus tried to speak, but all words were lost to him.  
  
"Paul. Paul is going." As his contribution, Sirius nodded as James spoke.  
  
The girl reached for Peter's hand, carefully side-stepping the mess. Remus found his voice "NO!" he screamed "NO, WE CAN'T MOVE HIM!"  
  
Bellatrix and the boys laughed.  
  
"Easy," said the Prefect. She continued to reach for his hand. "I'm not going to move him, just check his pulse."  
  
"He's not dead," said Sirius, in a voice James was sure would have been calm, sure and hard if it hadn't been for the slight quaver when he spoke.  
  
"I'm just checking to see if he's gone into shock," she continued. James wondered at her patience - if he were trying to do something nice, and a whole lot of people were shouting things at him, he didn't know how long he could take it.  
  
"Clear off!" came a harassed voice. A woman with curled hair underneath a nurse's bonnet came rushing up the stairs, hurrying the girl out of the way, nearly making her step in the mess. The prefect, realizing that all of her first-years were still in tow, said, "Come along, Slytherins, we need to give him some room." They stalked off down a flight of stone steps into what looked like dungeons.  
  
"Oh dear," said Madame Pomfrey, but not looking nearly so shocked. "Oh, this'll take a couple of minutes." She pulled out her wand, and said "Mobilicorpus". Lighter than air, with his leg stiff as a board somehow, under Madame Pomfrey's direction, he levitated right out of the step. "Ferula," Madam Pomfrey said calmly as bandages flew out of her wand, securing Peters leg.  
  
Peter was laid down, and it was then that James noticed, with a somewhat horrible shock, that although unconscious, Peter's eyes, dead and watery, still lay open.  
  
"You can leave boys, and visit him tomorrow when visiting hours resume at the Hospital Wing. I'm afraid I can't work on him with you lot hovering around." Taking Peter's floating form with her, they stalked up another flight of stairs to the west.  
  
"Okay, boys," said Paul. "Let's get you to the dormitory."  
  
They arrived, after what seemed like hours of climbing, their heads so full of what they had seen, in front of a very large portrait of a very fat woman in the most elaborate pink silk dress James had ever seen.  
  
"Dear me!" said the fat lady. "You look like you've seen a ghost!" Then she chuckled. "Peeves been having some fun with the first-years has he?"  
  
None of them seemed to have the courage to mention what they'd seen. "No," said Paul dully. "No. Just... Fortiscor. Fortiscor."  
  
Frowning at them, as if she'd just been denied a great load of gossip, the portrait swung open, revealing a large room filled entirely with either red or gold fabric. Chairs, sofas, desks, tables, lamps, and a huge fireplace next to the door. There were two sets of stone staircases.  
  
A huge group of Gryffindors, for the first-years had plainly told everyone else what they had seen, stood grouped together in the room. They all stopped talking when the four boys entered.  
  
"Is he... all right?" asked Lillian Evans, one of the girls who had screamed.  
  
"All of you need to go to bed!" Paul warned them. "Peter has had an accident, and Madame Pomfrey is taking care of him. In the meantime, you need to rest for lessons! Boys on the left-hand staircase, girls on the right! Go!"  
  
As they all followed these directions, James noticed Paul did not immediately follow, but merely fell into a large overstuffed armchair by the fire, staring into the flames.  
  
The first door on the right had a large sign that said "First-Years tacked to it. Opening the door, they found themselves in an unlit room (clearly they were expected to be in bed by now) filled with five four-poster beds, with hangings waiting to be drawn. All of them, without speaking, got into bed. James knew he wasn't the only one who didn't fall into a peaceful slumber right away, but he didn't think he was much in the mood for talking anymore. 


End file.
